


One's for sorrow, two's for joy...

by Catolyn



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Ficlet, Gen, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-05 20:38:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catolyn/pseuds/Catolyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eleven short character study pieces, each centered around a different character. </p>
<p>All loosely connected.</p>
<p>Some angsty, some schmoopy, some intentionally (or unintentionally) funny.</p>
<p>Chapter prompts are adapted from a modified counting rhyme found in Seanan McGuire's song "<a href="http://seananmcguire.com/songbook.php?id=143">Counting Crows</a>" on her album "Wicked Girls"</p>
<p>One's for sorrow (Tony)<br/>Two's for joy (Natasha)<br/>Three's for the kisses you gave me, boy (Jane)<br/>Four's the devil (Fury)<br/>Five's for sin (Bruce)<br/>Six is for the mess that you got me in (Clint)<br/>Seven's a secret I can't tell (Pepper)<br/>Eight's for heaven (Darcy)<br/>Nine's for hell (Steve)<br/>Does anybody out there think it's odd that they never found a number to pin on god? (Thor)<br/>Coda (Phil)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One's for sorrow (Tony)

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes strange little ideas take root when you least expect them, and this is definitely one of them.
> 
> Rating for suggestions of sexy times & language.
> 
> Feedback and criticism always welcome.
> 
> I own nothing and am making nothing from this.

**One’s for sorrow**

Tony’s been drunk since about thirty minutes after he identified the bodies of his parents. It only took that long because that’s how long it took half a bottle of really shitty tequila to hit his bloodstream.

Once he was good and sauced he went straight into his workshop, picked up a crowbar, and began smashing every piece of equipment he could. Obie must have called Rhodey to intervene, because suddenly there was his best friend, sidestepping a clumsy swing, plucking the crowbar out of his hands and guiding him upstairs to his bed where he collapsed.

Obie rushed the funeral arrangements which is why they’re having a service only five days after the accident, and Tony is still drunk.

Rhodey’s tried to get him to sober up a couple of times, and failed.

So here he is, standing under a blazing summer sun, as people murmur empty condolences and Tony decides that the distance being drunk gives him is just about perfect. 

He may have hated his father half the time; fought tooth and nail for his approval the other half, but his father is still his dad, and under all the bitterness and resentment there is still the seed of love that a child will carry for a parent. 

Tony knows his mother never really knew what to do with a child, but she tried in her own way, even if she never understood why her son kept taking apart the toaster. When he can finally bring himself to go through their personal possessions he finds the first little mechanical wind-up toy he ever made in her jewelry box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lurk around tumblr at http://catolynwrites.tumblr.com/


	2. Two's for Joy (Natasha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleven short character study pieces, each centered around a different character.
> 
> All loosely connected.
> 
> Some angsty, some schmoopy, some intentionally (or unintentionally) funny.

**Two’s for joy**

Natasha Romanov was trained from early childhood to be an assassin, a spy, and a flawless asset for the Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic. She was modified, experimented on, and genetically enhanced. She excelled in all ways that mattered to her instructors.

Instructors who had tried their best to train out any semblance of emotion; good or bad, that she might possess.

“Love is for children.” they told her. “Hate will weaken you.” they said. “You must be cold, with neither compassion or passion. Only in this way will you become strong enough to serve.”

If it hadn’t been for her very first deep cover assignment, as the ballet dancing mistress to a highly ranked mobster with undesired political ambitions in Moscow, she might have become as cold as her teachers planned.

But she found something in being a dancer that she’d never experienced before; joy. The joy of using her body as a tool that had nothing to do with blood or killing. The joy of using her body to tell a story. The joy of perfecting a piece of choreography as she lept across the stage in unison with other dancers. 

After she defected, after she’d been folded into the wary embrace of SHEILD, and after she’d been given leave to go off base without a minder; she disguised herself and slipped into New York. She found store that sold pointe shoes and spent the afternoon selecting new shoes.

She spoke to the salesgirl, asking after lessons; not because she needed them - but because she wanted to find somewhere to dance. Directed to a school several blocks away, she made note of the address, gathered her purchase, and returned to base.

Late that night she broke into the dance studio, slipped her shoes on, and began her barre work.

Feet flying across the wooden floor, sweat pooling at the small of her back, Natasha danced fiercely, freely, and with pure unrelenting joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lurk around tumblr at http://catolynwrites.tumblr.com/


	3. Three's for the kisses you gave me boy (Jane)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleven short character study pieces, each centered around a different character.
> 
> All loosely connected.
> 
> Some angsty, some schmoopy, some intentionally (or unintentionally) funny.

**Three’s for the kisses you gave me boy**

Sleepless nights, more sugar and caffeine than any one woman should ever consume, and Jane Foster, preeminent astrophysicist, has made her final breakthrough in her Stark Industries funded lab on the 90th floor of the Avengers Tower.

She’s done it and all that remains is to take her device out to the middle of nowhere upstate New York, flip a switch, and bring Thor back.

She can’t fully suppress the way her stomach flips at the thought of seeing him again.

With great pomp and security SHIELD transports her equipment to a secure location. Tony and Bruce ride along with her, bickering good naturedly.

Darcy runs the technical setup with all the efficiency of a field marshal, briskly directing technicians and double checking their work, leaving Jane with very little real work. “Let me take care of this boss. You’ve already done the hard work, this is just grunt crap.”

Director Fury gives Jane a measuring look; she’s standing to the side, wearing her typical oversized sweater and hugging her arms tightly around her ribs, as though she’s trying to keep herself from flying apart. “You sure this gizmo of yours will work Doc?”

Affronted she begins rattling off her math, her test cases, and why this is absolutely going to work. By the time she’s done railing at him, Darcy is telling her everything is ready to go. She realizes rather quickly that he was trying to distract her from her anxiety and files away that small kindness masked as a rudeness.

“Do your magic Doctor.” says the Director.

“I don’t do magic Director, I do science.” she retorts tartly and she types in the lines of code to execute the program that will restore and open the Einstein-Rosen Bridge.

The air hums and crackles, and then like a bolt from the blue, there is Thor. Armed and armored.

His team swarms around him shouting and embracing him. Jane stands back, pressing her fist to her mouth, trying to quell the frantic beating of her heart. 

Then, there, he sees her through the crowd and he strides through the scrum until he’s standing in front of her. She thinks for a hysterical moment that he’s even taller than she remembered.

“Fair Lady Jane, don’t weep.” he says reaching a hand to brush tears from her cheeks.

Jane closes her eyes and leans into the warmth of his hand, “I did it, I brought you back.” she says softly, trying not shake like a leaf.

He brings his other hand up to cup her face, “You did, my brilliant, wonderful, beautiful Jane.” and he bends down to claim her lips with his own.

She’s standing on tiptoe, her arms around him as they kiss. He tastes of something sharply sweet that reminds her of tart apples as she parts her lips.

“She brought him back for interstellar nookie?” is Tony’s scathing quip which is followed by a sharp yip of pain as Darcy kicks him in the shins with her combat boots.

Pulling away from Thor, Jane grins recklessly, “You never said I couldn’t have ulterior motives Stark. So yes, my science is totally supporting my quest for interstellar nookie.” 

Thor laughs loudly and literally sweeps her up off her feet to kiss her again, leaving her breathless and laughing.

Later in the tower Thor lays her out on her bed and covers her body in feather light kisses and words of adoration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lurk around tumblr at http://catolynwrites.tumblr.com/


	4. Four’s for the Devil (Fury)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleven short character study pieces, each centered around a different character.
> 
> All loosely connected.
> 
> Some angsty, some schmoopy, some intentionally (or unintentionally) funny.

**Four’s for the Devil**

Nick Fury has made a career of not taking shit from anyone.

Not when he was coming up the ranks, constantly insulted and looked down on, not for any lack of ability (far from it), but for the color of his skin.

Not when he was given his first command and half the white enlisted men under his command tried to sabotage him behind his back. Ironically he had more respect for the men who did it to his face; at least he _knew_ where he stood with them.

And absolutely not when he was ‘encouraged’ to take the post of the Director of SHIELD following that god-awful dust up in Argentina.

He knows what some of his junior officers call him, ‘Old one-eye’ is hardly the worst he’s heard. Though he’s had it up to here with the number of jolly roger flags that have shown up tacked to his office door over the years.

But the way he’s learned to make deals, even deals that others may not want to make, has earned him another reputation entirely; “Old Scratch”. 

So when he hears Stark grousing about making another deal with him and Banner replies “Better the devil you know.” it’s all Fury can do to not throw them both off the side of his ship.

Not that it would do any good. 

Yes, he’s made deals he’s not proud of with people he’d have rather shot in the face (or back); but Machiavellian assumed motivations to the side, he’s always tried to make those deals with the best intel possible to save as many lives as he is able. 

So he grinds his teeth in private, and grinds Stark a little in public, and tries to convince himself that he's not asking anyone to sell their souls. No matter how betrayed Rogers looks when he has to tell him “We can’t save everyone Captain.” 

Maybe someday he’ll even believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lurk around tumblr at http://catolynwrites.tumblr.com/


	5. Five's for sin (Bruce)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleven short character study pieces, each centered around a different character.
> 
> All loosely connected.
> 
> Some angsty, some schmoopy, some intentionally (or unintentionally) funny.

**Five’s for sin**

Since the invasion Bruce has come to an uneasy truce with ‘the other guy’. He still can’t quite believe that his alter ego took orders. Bruce is nothing if not a scientist and there are some things he simply cannot ignore when presented with incontrovertible data.

Despite his misgivings he’s let Steve and Tony convince him to spend time with the team in a remote corner of the Colorado wilderness so they can chart exactly how cooperative the Hulk is capable of being when not being shot at.

Which is how Bruce learns that when he is in control of the transformation the Hulk is remarkably capable of following simple orders. Especially if he gets to smash something. The Hulk is still a blunt edged weapon, but even blunt weapons can be aimed if handled properly.

So of course the guilt of Harlem begins to chew at him. If he’d just bothered to learn how to harness this maybe all those people wouldn’t have died. 

No matter how often Steve or Natasha tell him he was provoked, that he was only defending himself, he cannot absolve himself of the burden of those deaths.

When he was little his mother would take him to church. He remembers the pastor talking about ten commandments and sin, and has reflected over the years that he is guilty of the sin of hubris as much as the sin of murder.

One night (morning? he can’t be sure) as he’s painstakingly reviewing equations Tony drops a folder off on his desk. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I know you respect data. So there it is. Data. I had JARVIS analyze all the video he could get his code on from the Harlem incident. There were one hundred and eighteen deaths.” 

Bruce flinches and carefully practices his breathing.

Tony continues, unrelenting, “At no point did the Hulk cause the death of a civilian. The eight deaths that JARVIS could not attribute _directly_ to Blondsky were military personnel - and they were trying to incapacitate or kill Hulk. I’m not saying you aren’t within your rights to feel guilt over that. But I think your hair shirt needs to come off a bit more often. Blondsky was the one responsible for over a hundred deaths; not you. And before you give me some crap about how none of this would have happened if you hadn’t decided to turn yourself into a human guinea pig I’d point out even if you _had_ Harlem wouldn’t have happened if Ross hadn’t been a psychopathic idiot to try and replicate what he _knew_ to be a dangerous experiment.”

Bruce breathes out slowly and looks up, meeting Tony’s implacable gaze.

“I...” he begins, at a complete loss of words.

“There’s a second file at the back looking at the Hulk’s casualty rate since joining the Avengers Initiative. Tally is a few Hydra agents, a couple dozen park benches, and one really suicidal AIM agent. If you won’t respect the opinion of your team and friends, respect the fucking numbers.” and Tony turns on heel and walks out of the lab.

Because it’s data, and he can’t _not_ review data, he opens the folder. An hour later he’s rubbing his tired eyes and feeling for the first time in more years than he can count that maybe he isn’t any more a monster than anyone else on his team. 

That his sins do not make him unredeemable.


	6. Six is for the mess that you got me in (Clint)

Clint has been taking the blame for things that weren’t really his fault for as long as he can remember. He’s pretty sure it’s the unfortunate byproduct of having an older brother.

One of his earliest memories is looking at a cup, broken on the floor, and Barney saying with all conviction that it had been Clint who knocked it off the table. Clint hadn’t even been in the same room, but he was the one who got three brutal slaps with their fathers belt.

That probably should have told him something about how things would eventually turn out between him and his brother.

It’s this memory that springs suddenly to mind, crouched behind concealing cover with Natasha, as Hydra goons pepper heavy fire on their location, pinning them down. “This is your fault Barton.” she says dryly as she blindly fires a couple of shots in return.

He’s slapping a field dressing made out of the sleeve of his dress shirt on the nasty graze wound on her outer thigh as he glares at her. “How exactly is this _my_ fault Nat? Really? Please enlighten me. Because I’m pretty damn sure if anyone’s to blame it’s probably Stark for throwing a fancy dress party and making us all targets.”

She hisses in pain as he fastens the dressing on a little more roughly than absolutely necessary. “Because you мудак, you should have gone into the ducts when you had the chance and gone to get your bow. But now you’re pinned down here with me.”

“So, it’s my fault that I won’t abandon my partner? What kind of asshole do you take me for Natasha?” he yells.

“The kind of asshole who’s still trying to prove he isn’t being mind raped by Loki.” she snaps back.

His eyes go wide and he says the first thing that comes to mind, “Fuck you Nat.”

Natasha gives him one of her inscrutable looks from the corner of her eye before grabbing the back of his neck with her free hand, dragging his head down, and kissing the hell out of him. “Maybe later.”

He’s gaping at her as she passes him one of her pistols. “There are six agents and five rounds. Make it count, I’ll lay down some cover fire, but I’m down to four rounds.”

“I hate guns.” Clint mutters.

Natasha rolls her eyes at her partner, “We use the tools we have. Now are you going to shoot those assholes or do we have to wait for Stark to rescue us? If Stark has to rescue us then it really will be your fault, because he will be an insufferable ебарь for weeks.”

He huffs in amusement, breathes in deeply and throws himself out from behind cover.

Later, in medical while Natasha gets her wound stitched and Coulson berates them for reckless behaviour Clint interrupts their handlers tirade to say, “I’m sorry sir, but it was my fault.”


	7. Seven’s a secret I can’t tell (Pepper)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleven short character study pieces, each centered around a different character.
> 
> All loosely connected.
> 
> Some angsty, some schmoopy, some intentionally (or unintentionally) funny.

**Seven’s a secret I can’t tell**

Virginia “Pepper” Potts has been keeping Tony Stark’s secrets for nearly ten years. 

From the little ones about how drunk he really was at that last board meeting to the bigger ones; like how he really has a heart and if there’s anything he’s guilty of it’s caring too much.

Which is why whenever anyone asks her why Tony acts like he doesn’t give a shit and then spends three days in his lab mainlining coffee to perfect a new arrow for Clint, or that special polymer for Bruce, or anyone one of the dozen pieces of tech he’s developed and perfected for his teammates, she just smiles and shrugs; as though to say “Tony will be Tony.”

If they can’t figure out that Tony’s biggest secrets are that the man with a broken heart is still searching for approval and acceptance, and that he will never admit that he cares, because if he cares he admits that losing one of them would hurt him.

So Pepper smiles her Cheshire Cat smile and continues to keep Tony’s secrets. He may not pay her anymore, but the trust that she’s earned is worth more than other gift she’s ever been given.


	8. Eight’s for Heaven (Darcy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleven short character study pieces, each centered around a different character.
> 
> All loosely connected.
> 
> Some angsty, some schmoopy, some intentionally (or unintentionally) funny.

**Eight’s for Heaven**

When Darcy was ten she spent her winter vacation with her parents in middle of nowhere Northern Minnesota where her maternal grandparents lived on several acres, complete with pond. 

Darcy died for seven minutes that winter when, on a dare from her older cousin Colin, she skated out on the frozen surface of the pond and the ice splintered under her skates.

She hit the water and the intensity of the cold struck her like a freight train, forcing the air from her lungs, as her skates dragged her down. The last thing she recalled, before the clawing darkness drug her under, was thinking it wasn’t fair she was drowning - she was the best swimmer on swim team.

The next time she opened her eyes, three days later, she was in a hospital bed; her parents sitting in chairs, leaning against each other, their fingers tangled together as they held hands and anxiously waited for their eldest child to regain consciousness.

The frozen water had somehow saved her. But for seven minutes Darcy Anne Lewis had been technically dead; she took no breath, she had no pulse.

In the years following she had an odd recurring dream of people made of light fighting back a host of shadows. Darcy mentioned it once to her grandmother and Nana had brushed the hair back from her face before kissing her forehead. “Some people see heaven if they get too close to dying. Just remember you saw heaven baby girl and they sent you back.”

As a teen she’d joked that she was only alive because heaven kicked her out and hell didn’t want the trouble. Which is maybe why she became such a risk taker, knowing she’d already died once made her feel invincible. She drove too fast, drank too much, and ran with the kids her parents would have rather she never knew.

Now she’s twenty five, living in New York in the Avengers fucking Tower, working as data analyst slash errand monkey for Jane Foster, Bruce Banner, and Tony mother-fucking Stark. She has a security clearance from a top secret government agency because of the projects she’s asked to work on for the brain trust and she can’t really tell her parents what her job even _is_ anymore. 

It’s a Thursday afternoon when she’s perched on a workbench in Tony’s lab, arguing with him about the lunch order - thai or shawarma - when Dummy knocks an Iron Man gauntlet off the bench she's sitting on to the ground. Where it summarily explodes, knocking Tony to the floor and flinging Darcy across the room.

Darcy comes to in a crumpled heap, ears ringing and a hot trickle of blood oozing down her forehead into her eyes. Her glasses are god knows where.

Tony is yelling orders to JARVIS as he scrambles across the room before dropping to his knees beside her. “Fuck! Fuck! FUCK! Don’t be dead Lewis. Don’t be dead.” she hears him beg.

Blearily she opens her eyes, “I’ve already died once. Didn’t take. Ow.”

“Jesus fuck. Don’t move. Help is on the way.” 

“Not moving.” she croaks and starts to black out again. 

But Tony’s in her face, snapping his fingers under her nose. “No sleeping on the job Lewis. Stay with me here. Talk to me. When did you die?”

Dazed she tells him about her skating accident until the EMTs arrive. 

She’s released from the hospital two days later. She lets the team make a fuss and bother for a while before slipping quietly out to the balcony.

She’s looking out at city when she hears the door open and close behind her. Tony walks up and leans sidelong against the railing. “What’s got you all serious?”

“Thinking about dying. I used to have dreams about people made of light after I died. My Nana said I saw heaven.” she hears Tony make a scoffing noise.

“Yeah, I never really believed it either. And I came out here to get some air, because honestly Thor’s hugs are a little stifling and if Steve doesn’t stop asking me if I need anything everytime I blink I’ll throw something. But then I looked in and...” her voice trails off.

“And?”

“And looking at everyone sitting there talking, eating, and laughing - I thought heaven isn’t some faceless beings made of light fighting shadows - it’s that.” and she gestures to the scene on the other side of the glass. “It’s making a family out of the pieces you have, and holding on to it.”

Tony blinks at her owlishly, “You get very strange after being almost exploded.”

Darcy laughs and swats half heartedly at him. 

He slings an arm around her shoulder and guides her back inside. “Come on kiddo, back to heaven for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this iteration of my headcanon Tony's sort of adopted Darcy as a younger sibling. She teases him for having old man tastes in music (classic metal) and he tells her to get off his lawn with her crappy modern music. Which is why he's so freaked out when she gets blown across the lab.


	9. and Nine's for hell (Steve)

**and Nine’s for Hell**

Steve remembers hearing the phrase ‘War is hell’ years before he ever enlisted. Unsurprising for a child growing up after World War I.

Of course he had no way of understanding what it really meant until he found himself in the European theater of World War II watching men he knew be blown to bits, and the men who survived fall apart.

They called it ‘shell shock’ in World War I and ‘battle fatigue’ in World War II. In the twenty first century they call it ‘post traumatic stress disorder’.

Steve didn’t know what to call it in relation to himself other than ‘I’d like to stop dreaming about watching my best friend die.’ because for him, that’s all it was. No waking flashbacks. No flinching at unexpected noises. Just the recurring nightmare of losing his grip on Bucky’s hand and watching his oldest friend (brother) fall. Fall down - so far, far down.

Steve is relieved when the dream happens with decreasing frequency, but he also feels guilty. When it became a dream he had once a week he stalked down to the gym and destroyed two punching bags in guilt. How dare he forget his friends last moments? How dare he forget Bucky’s face? How dare he forgive himself for letting go? How dare he be relieved his nights weren’t haunted?

Eventually the dream only comes after one of his team (and they were _his_ team, no matter what Tony tried to claim) has a particularly close call.

A targeted doombot EMP blast knocks Tony out of the sky; Thor manages to catch him before he hits the ground. It’s a near thing, every bit as close as when Hulk caught Tony.

That night Steve wakes up, heart pounding, sheets tangled around his hips, a cry on his lips.

Later that morning he’s pounding his frustrations and guilt out on a bag in the gym when Darcy sashays in, iPod in hand. She pauses and watches him a moment. “Dude, who pissed in your Cheerios?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” he grinds out, pummeling the bag.

“No one ever will if you don’t say something Steve. I swear on this entire island of misfit toys you might be able to give Bruce a run for his money on the self torture routine.” she snaps back.

He stills the bag and turns around to glare at her, “Tony almost died yesterday. Someone on my team nearly died Darcy.”

She meets his gaze, impassively, “Tony almost dies every day Steve. The man has a giant magnet in his chest keeping him alive. But I don’t think that’s the point. I think it’s that someone you feel _responsible_ for almost died.” He tries to interrupt and she cuts him off with a sharp gesture and a glare of her own. “Look, I can’t even pretend to understand how much it must fucking suck to wake up so far in the future nothing looks familiar, but it’s not like you’ve been sent to the lowest circle of hell Steve. There are people here who give a shit about you and want to see you happy. But you have to decide you deserve to be happy.”

“Why?” he snarls at her. “Why do I _deserve_ to be happy?”

Her expression is the oddest combination of confusion and pity, “Because you’re the most decent human I’ve ever met and I refuse to believe you’ve ever done something so awful that you deserve to be trapped in your own emotional hell for the rest of your life.” She sighs, “I just hope one day you can believe that too.” and she turns on heel and stalks out of the gym.

He takes a few half hearted swings at the bag before stopping and Steve starts to wonder if maybe she doesn’t have a point.

When he sleeps again he dreams of Bucky, but not of Bucky falling; he dreams about running down the boardwalk beside his friend laughing.

Steve wakes up with tears in his eyes.


	10. Does anybody out there think it’s odd that they’ve never found a number to pin on god? (Thor)

**Does anybody out there think it’s odd that they’ve never found a number to pin on God?**

Thor is torn. Torn between his duty as the heir to Asgard and his duty as a protector of Midgard.

When he was first sent to Midgard it was as punishment; to teach him humility. Now he’s come to realize that Midgard is as much his home as Asgard; and it pains him that he cannot be in both places at once.

In Asgard he misses his fair Jane terribly of course. But he also misses the camaraderie and friendship that he’s developed with Steve, Clint, Tony and Natasha. Doctor Banner keeps his distance more than not, but Thor has wondered if he does so because of his other side. Thor hasn’t quite managed to think of a way to reassure Bruce that he’s not offended by the rough treatment he receives from the other man's alter ego. It certainly stings when he is on the receiving end of a blow from Hulk but he suffers no lasting damage from it; really though it’s no worse than sparring with the Warriors Three or Sif. At least on Asgard he understands the customs though.

When he’s on Midgard he misses hunts with his boon companions. The air smells different on Midgard - not as clean, and unless he’s recently whipped up a storm it lacks a certain sharp tang. He misses his mother’s calm certainty and his father’s wry humor. 

On Midgard he hates the recurring feeling of being a buffoon and of ignorance. Jane and Darcy try to teach him about the world, but as Darcy has observed the issue is largely a problem of lacking cultural context, which is why Steve comes to an understanding on the same topics much more quickly. He finds himself impatient with his lack of knowledge, but is thankful for Jane’s unending patience in explaining the world she lives in. Little by little he starts to gain a deeper, more assured understanding of his second home.

On his last trip to Asgard his father took him aside in concern, taking a mortal lover is not uncommon for the Aesir - but that Thor is courting one is being looked on with suspicion by some corners of Odin’s court. The Allfather hasn’t forbade him to court Jane, but has instead tried to counsel his son on patience and discretion.

Thor has never been very patient or discreet and has decided the thing to do is to bring Jane to Asgard to visit. Surely if his father’s court can meet such a stunning mortal they will understand why Thor has fallen so very deeply in love.

He worries though that someday he will have to choose between his duties as Odin’s heir and his commitment to Jane.

In the meantime when Jane catches him deep in thought, mulling over that very question, and she asks him what he’s thinking he simply smiles and tells her he’s thinking about how much he loves her.

He consoles himself by thinking that after a fashion it is true.


	11. Coda (Phil)

**Coda**

Despite being back from the dead Phil Coulson has hardly missed a step. Well there were the two months of being in a coma and the three months of intensive physical therapy and he’s a lot happier if he doesn’t have to run up too many stairs these days since he’s missing part of a lung. 

He still hasn’t forgiven Fury for the damage done to his precious trading cards but, grudgingly, allows that it was maybe the only thing with enough emotional impact to bring the team together as a cohesive whole.

Phil expenses ALL the damaged cards on his reimbursement report and it’s actually not the oddest thing he’s ever expensed for a mission. That would probably been the duckling, fifty feet of hemp twine, a potted fern, super glue, and a package of crumb donuts (he was hungry and the duckling seemed to like them too). The look he’d gotten from accounting when he turned that in had been a smirk worthy combination of ‘What the hell did you _do?!_ ’ and ‘Oh god I don’t want to _know_ what you did.’

While Phil had been drifting somewhere between here and there on the consciousness scale Stark had somehow convinced everyone to come live in his ostentatious tower. The first time he came to visit it reminded him of a frat house with better food.

Once he’d been cleared to resume active duty he was summarily assigned to the initiative as their permanent SHIELD liaison. This surprised precisely no one.

Over the next several months he resisted Starks many attempts to have him relocate from his studio apartment in midtown; he was a professional for gods sakes, and living in what amounted to a frat house with superheros was not professional.

His resolved lasted right up to his apartment being flooded by a burst pipe. He tried staying in a hotel but somehow (he rather suspected Pepper’s involvement at that point) his things turned up at the tower after a few days. Even though his apartment was fit for habitation again weeks ago he’s just never bothered to go back.

Which is how he finds himself in the communal living room watching reality television on a Saturday evening while Bruce and Tony argue about unstable molecules. Clint is sprawled out on the couch, using Natasha’s lap as pillow. Darcy is trying to teach Thor how to play Uno for reasons that completely escape him; and Thor, if the baffled look on his face is anything to go by. Pepper and Jane are at the table, the former reviewing a quarterly earnings report and the latter making revisions to complex equations on the stability of using the Einstein-Rosen Bridge as a form of transportation to new points in space. And Steve is off to the side, surreptitiously drawing Darcy; who exactly he thinks he’s fooling Phil doesn’t know, but it’s amusing to watch regardless.

For a man who was thought dead for several months he has to occasionally stop and appreciate this oddball team. By all rights his story should have ended when Loki rammed that staff through his chest, and yet it didn’t. He is somehow alive. And he knows that the story of these Avengers is nowhere near done.

In the meantime though, he has some vacation coming up and his ticket to Portland is already booked.

**Author's Note:**

> I lurk around tumblr at http://catolynwrites.tumblr.com/


End file.
